Promise Me, Ned
by TheFirstOfThisName
Summary: An accident renders Brandon Stark, Heir to Winterfell, unable to pursue Rhaegar Targaryen. He sends Eddard in his stead. Absurdly AU fic, examining Brandon Stark's role in the war he never got to fight.


Author's Note: I do not own anything. Love reviews, tell me what you think, constructive criticism always more helpful than a flame! Enjoy!

Prologue

_Ned, _

_I don't know if Father had written you, but Lya...Lya's gone, Ned. She's been taken. Prince Rhaegar took her. For a married man, he was far too taken with her, and now she is his captive. I can scarce imagine even now what that monster is doing to her. I don't want to, but the thought that even as I write to you, he could be taking her. I can see it every time I close my eyes. I want her back, Ned._

_I want that bastard's head, too. _

_Father has forbidden I go. He says that it is too rash, that the King would think my words treasonous. He says that we will get her back in due time. His own daughter! You would think Lya were some tavern wench or common whore, the way he talks. _

_I ignored his command, though, and sought to ride out. My horse fell, and now I find myself confined to my bed with a broken leg. Maester Luwin says it will heal in a matter of weeks, mayhaps a little more than a month. A month, Ned! I cannot wait that long. _

_Brother, you must go. Go to King's Landing and bring back our sister. Honor and blood demand that the Targaryens return her to us. Father does not wish for this to be so, but I beg you for the love you bear me, and for Lya...go to her. To my shame I cannot, but you must hold our honor high. Promise me, Ned, that you will. I have sent a party of men south from White Harbor to Gulltown, and should be waiting for you with a vessel to King's Landing by the time you arrive. You remember my squire, Ethan Glover? He leads the party in my stead. Go with them, for I would not have you in King's Landing alone, little brother._

_Find Lya. Kill Rhaegar, if you can, but find Lya. That is all that matters. Find her, and bring her home. _

_Promise me, Ned._

_Your affectionate brother,_

_-Brandon_

Eddard's hands strained against their bindings as he sought to feel the well-worn letter tucked behind his belt. He glanced furtively about the room, meeting the eyes of Ser Denys Arryn, Jon's heir apparent who had accompanied him to King's Landing, Brandon's squire Ethan Glover, looking exceptionally pale as they stood together in King Aerys' throne room, surrounded by the Dragonlords of the Crownlands and other Targaryen bannermen.

And yet...there was no sign of his sister. Nor of Rhaegar, but Eddard could not bring himself to hate the Prince with the fiery ardor Brandon so freely expressed. He just wanted to bring Lya home.

Robert hadn't understood why Eddard was leaving without him. He hadn't wanted to leave his friend behind in the Eyrie, but Brandon had asked _him _to find Lya. It was his responsibility, his duty. For all he loved Robert, Eddard already had a brother. Two brothers, in fact. And his brothers needed him.

His eyes slid to the King, sitting on his throne, forged of a hundred swords. His Grace Aerys II Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. The King was, by all account, a bloodthirsty and unpredictably cruel madman. Eddard thought, though, when he looked into the King's eyes he could see pain, not rage. Some unimaginable torment that he had been afflicted with during his captivity in Duskendale, this horrifying torture that had broken Aerys the man and forged Aerys the monster. The monster was real, no doubt about that. The pain would drown in an ocean of rage that esteemed ready to erupt forth at any moment.

As Eddard's father, Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, knelt at his feet and asked his second son's release, he had a feeling that the monster was lurking beneath the surface, ready to pounce.

"Your Grace," his father was saying, "I would ask that you please release my son and his companions into my custody. They are but boys, and are rash, impulsive, but not...not..." Lord Rickard seemed close to choking on the word, "...Not traitorous!"

Eddard was suddenly rather acutely aware of the King's eyes on him, seemingly searching for something. Perhaps the King thought he could see the darkness in men's hearts, now?

Madness or truesight, the King suddenly bellowed, "Kingsguard, seize this traitor! Plotting to murder the Crown Prince, plotting to murder the King! Death to all traitors, death to these Starks and their murderous allies!"

Men in red and black tabards surrounded the Northmen, and one seized Eddard from behind, dragging him forward. The youngest member of the Kingsguard, Ser Jaime Lannister, grabbed Lord Rickard at the shoulder, keeping him on his knees. The King leant forwards and whispered a few commands to a servant, who dashed away fearfully to carry out his maester's orders.

Lord Rickard, fighting in vain against the knight holding him, spat furiously, "You cannot do this, Aerys, to a Lord of the Realm. I demand my right to a trial!"

The king stood, his fingernails nearly a foot in length, scraping against the chair as he rose. His hair and beard were wild and matted, and his lips peeled back into a cruel smile. "You have been judged by your king, Stark, and found guilty. You will die."

Eddard's father tried again to shake off Ser Jaimthe but the young Kingsguard had a firm grip. "Then I demand my right to a trial by combat, before gods and men. You cannot deny me that right, Aerys!"

The King seemed to struggle with that monster inside, and for a moment the entire hall was still, waiting for his decision with baited breath.

After what seemed like an eternity, the King relented, and Eddard exhaled heavily. "This is your right, Stark. Name your champion."

Lord Rickard answered coolly, "I shall champion myself."

Servants filed in from the back of the hall, carrying bundles of thatch and small clay jars. The thatch was placed in a pile in the middle of the room, a short distance behind where Lord Rickard stood in defiance of his King, and a chill crept up Eddard's spine, suddenly quite certain that neither he nor his father would be leaving the castle alive.

King Aerys nodded to one of the men, and the servants upended the jars onto the pile of thatch. It was oil.

Lord Rickard glanced backwards, and his eyes widened as he saw his own funeral pyre being built. His hand flew to his sword hilt, but Ser Jaime was faster and took it from him. Rickard turned back to the king. "Please, Aerys, I shall do whatever you want, pay any price, but I beg of you, do not harm my son!"

The King sat back down on his throne, and waved to another servant, who plunged an unlit torch into a brazier before tossing it onto the thatch, the oil soaked chaff and wood catching fire immediately. Soon, a happy blaze was filling the throne room with firelight, and Aerys smiled, a true smile, eyes shining merrily in the presence of the gleeful glow. "Lord Rickard, all you need do is defeat my champion to prove your innocence. Thouwon't that sword won't be of much help." He paused, waving again, and Eddard was jerked along by his captors to stand before the Iron Throne. Facing his father. One man pushed him to his knees.

"You see, my champion is fire."

Eddard watched as his father was lifted by a pair of men and tossed heavily into the pyre. Trapped in his armor, he quickly began to roast alive, flesh burning, iron superheating and melting through his skin, his screams filling the hall. Eddard closed his eyes, trying to will away the sight. Distantly, he was aware of Aerys saying, "...arrived here demanding justice! Making demands of his King, calling for the Prince's head. I'll have his head!"

Eddard heard the sound of steel on leather, of a sword leaving its scabbard, and he raised his head as his father's screams died out, burned to death for daring to rescue his son. He heard the sound of metal boots treading closer, and in his periphery saw the steel greave as his executioner drew near.

He'd failed. He hadn't brought the Prince to justice, or brought home Lya. Brandon would be alone, and little Benjen no father to speak of. _Promise me, Ned, _Brandon had written.

"Forgive me, brother. You'll have to bring Lya home."

The last thing Eddard heard in the near silence of the hall was the gentle crackling of the flames his father had died in and the sound of the blade that would kill him _whooshing _through the air as it completed its arc that would-

And then, darkness.


End file.
